Same Time Next Year
by Todash
Summary: Post-war fic. Both the title and the premise have been borrowed from Alan Alda's film of the same name. Slash, B.J./Hawkeye. Updated with a sequel (second chapter), by request.
1. Chapter 1

**Same Time Next Year**

I'm sitting in my rental car outside the cabin. The lights are on because Hawkeye's inside, and I know exactly what he's doing. He's cooking supper (salmon, if I had to guess) and setting the table, and he's probably cursing me under his breath right now, because he thinks I'm late.

We've been coming here the last weekend in July every year since 1954. That was one year after the war ended, and we hadn't seen each other since we hugged goodbye at the 4077th. That was a tough year, at least for me. Going from seeing him every day—living with him, eating with him, even showering with him—to not seeing him at all. A much harder adjustment than I would have imagined. When finally we were able to coordinate our schedules to get together for a weekend—coincidentally exactly one year after the ceasefire—I was ecstatic.

For some reason, I didn't tell Peg that I was going to see Hawkeye. I told her I was spending the weekend at a medical convention in Manhattan.

Our getaway was a cabin at a lake in upstate New York; Hawk had been there before and said the fishing was terrific. I expected a laugh-filled weekend with my best friend. Some golf, some fishing, some drinking, lots of catching up.

What I didn't expect—what neither one of us planned—was the sex.

It just happened. We got back to the cabin that first night after a long walk, talking nonstop, often talking over one another, we were that wound up and had that much to tell each other. It was late and we were laughing and we'd had a little wine earlier in the evening. But I'm not going to blame the wine or the hour. It happened because we wanted it to.

He was standing just inside his bedroom door and we were talking about something and still laughing, and I'm sure I had every intention of saying goodnight and heading to my own bedroom. But instead I stepped toward him, and he stepped toward me, and we realized in the split second before our mouths met what we were about to do. But we didn't stop; we just let it happen. And there was this incredible rush of emotions, suppressed for so long but finally coming to the surface. We kissed hungrily, both of us making tiny whimpering sounds in the back of our throats, and clothes started to drop to the floor.

I never did use my own room.

We spent most of the rest of that weekend in bed, and it was incredible. When it came time to leave Sunday night, I felt panicky and tense. I didn't know what we were going to do… was this the start of something, or was it our last goodbye?

As I was about to get into my car and drive off, Hawkeye looked at me and smiled. "Same time next year?" he asked.

And that was how it began. Every year, the last weekend in July is ours. We come to the same little cabin by the lake, where we fish, or play a round of golf, or play some chess. But mostly we make love, wrapping ourselves around each other and shutting out the world, forgetting everything and everyone, including my wife and daughter, for that weekend we're alone together.

This is our 11th year of coming here. We've never missed a July. In '58, Hawk showed up even though he had a nasty case of the flu. I fussed over him and nursed him while he spent nearly the whole time in bed, sniffling and coughing and feeling bad. I held him and entertained him with stories about Erin and made him chicken soup. In a way, it was one of our best weekends, because I loved taking care of him like that.

Hawkeye has never married. He used to talk about the women he dated until one time I got jealous and angry and told him I didn't want to hear the details of his love life. I know it didn't make any sense, considering I was the one who went home to a wife after our annual trysts. But Hawkeye seemed to understand, even if I didn't. He didn't talk about his girlfriends any more after that. One morning a few years ago, while we were lying in bed snuggling and watching rain fall outside the window, he told me he had never loved any woman as much as he loved me.

I have this silly grin on my face now, remembering that. I'm smiling for a lot of reasons, actually. But mainly because this is the year that everything changes. This is the year I don't go back home to my wife.

She found out about us last year. But she only just told me this morning, as I was leaving. "You're not going to a medical convention, B.J. You're going to see Hawkeye," she said, casually and practically emotionless. "I've known since last year." I didn't say anything; I was shocked into silence. So she continued, "I called hotels in New York City, looking for a medical convention, and I kept coming up empty. Would you believe I actually called the Chamber of Commerce. No conventions, they said. So then I called Hawkeye's, but of course he wasn't home. I'm not stupid, B.J. I realized what was going on."

"I'm sorry, Peg. I should have told you a long time ago."

And that was how I left. With her knowing the truth, and me knowing I wouldn't have any reason to go back.

So here I sit in the car, about to go inside and tell Hawkeye it won't be just one weekend a year anymore. It'll be forever. It'll be the two of us growing old together.

I'm nervous as hell, but I've never been more excited. I can just imagine Hawk's reaction, his initial surprise and then his joy. I can picture our life together, sharing everything including maybe a practice, completely devoted to each other. I cannot wipe the smile off my face.

There's a bottle of wine on the seat next to me, and I grab it as I get out of the car. I inhale deeply; the air is fresh, the day is beautiful. And my future is waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:_ OK, here's the story behind the story. "Same Time Next Year" (aka Chapter One, which was posted to this site all the way back in 2009) was always intended to be a one-shot. After I posted it at the Yahoo slash group, a number of folks over there asked for a sequel. I wrote the sequel as requested, but was never real happy with it. That's why it didn't get uploaded here; I was happier letting the one-shot stand alone. However, I'm changing my mind now at the request of new reader UseTheForce3434, who wanted to know what happens after B.J. tells Hawkeye his news. Be careful what you ask for, I guess.

This is still B.J.'s POV.

**Same Time Next Year, Part II**

I open the front door and step inside, and the first thing that hits me is the aroma coming from the kitchen. Whatever Hawk is cooking, it smells great. I head there and he turns around and smiles when he sees me. His hair has gone completely gray by now, but he looks terrific. As always.

"Hey, handsome," he says, coming to greet me. He takes me in his arms and gives me a long, wet, passionate kiss that weakens my knees. Somehow we manage to break the contact before we get too carried away. "Happy anniversary."

This is what he says every year—"happy anniversary." I return the sentiment, handing over my bottle of wine. "How are ya, Hawk?"

"Doing great now," he says with one of his patented seductive smiles, and we fall into another kiss. God, our passions always seem to get the better of us… we have to force ourselves apart, or we'll fall to the floor in a heap of uncontrollable desire, and the food will be forgotten.

"What are we having?" I say to get my mind off the lustful thoughts that are threatening to take over.

"Chicken cacciatore," he replies, turning back to the oven. So much for my assumption of salmon. "And," he continues, "you came at just the right time, because it's ready. Go wash your hands."

I smile and do as I'm told. We don't say anything until we're seated at the table and he looks at me and asks me to say grace. This is another of our rituals. We reach across the table and join hands, and I say, "Father, thank you for this food and for giving us the opportunity to get together every year."

"And have lots of sex" is Hawk's less-than-pious addendum, and I laugh.

"Uh, amen… I think."

We start to dig in to the food and I take a deep breath, still nervous about what I have to tell him. "Hawk, I have some news. It's actually pretty big news."

He stops chewing and looks at me. "You're staying for the whole weekend, aren't you?"

I nod. "And longer, actually."

He waits. He's suddenly not eating, feeling the vibe in the air that's telling him that something huge is coming.

"Please, Hawk, keep eating. The chicken's delicious."

"Spill it, Beej. What's going on?"

Well, _I'm _going to keep eating, whether he does or not. I shovel some chicken in my mouth and chew and eventually say, "Peg found out about us. Actually, she's known for a year, but only just told me today. This morning."

Hawkeye's hanging on every word. I have no idea what's going through his mind. He seems surprised, of course, but I can't tell if it's a happy surprise or not.

"When I go back to Mill Valley, it'll just be to pack up my things. There's no reason for me to stay there anymore."

He keeps staring for a while, then resumes eating his meal. There's a long pause and I wait it out, my heart pounding. He's not exactly jumping for joy here. I keep hoping for, at the very least, a smile.

"Beej," he begins, and his voice is flat.

"Hawk?" I say softly. He's got me really worried now. He can't possibly be rejecting me, can he? No more Peg… if I can't have Hawkeye either, I swear I'm going to slit a wrist with one of these table knives.

He sighs and gives me a sheepish look. "B.J., I've been living with someone for close to a year and a half."

I literally drop my fork. I certainly did not expect a revelation like that. "You what?"

"Remember, you told me you didn't want to hear about my girlfriends, about any of the women I dated? So we stopped talking about that. Including Debra, a nurse I met a few years ago. We were just friends for a long time, and then our relationship took a turn. I won't bore you with the details. You never wanted to know about this stuff, Beej… remember?"

He's defensive, and I guess that makes sense. I did tell him not to talk about his relationships. I just never dreamed that one of them was serious. So serious that they lived together.

"She knows about… this? You and me?"

"Oh hell, no. She thinks I'm just fishing with a buddy. She'd never suspect that we… you know."

"Do you love her?"

He hesitated so long that I knew the answer before he said it. "Yeah, I do. But I love you more, I honestly do. I love you more than anyone, Beej, you _know _that." He sounds desperate, perhaps thinking that I doubt him, but I know he's telling me the truth. We can't lie to each other, we're not capable of that. "I just never imagined," he adds, softly, "that you and Peg would ever split."

"Yeah," I reply just as softly.

"I'm not celibate the 363 days of the year we're not together."

"I know that."

There's a slightly uncomfortable silence and then he says with a shrug, "So I'll break up with her. That's all. I do love her, but I love you a whole lot more. She'll understand."

I bark out a laugh, because that's so funny, believing that a woman would be understanding about her boyfriend dumping her for another man. "Hawkeye, I don't want you to do that—"

He holds up a hand. "Beej, there's no argument here. It's like a dream—something I never even _dared _to dream—you and me, together every day of the year instead of just two. I would never pass that up. Never."

We resume eating and don't say anything for a little while. I was expecting to feel ecstatic after telling him my news, but I feel a little sad, and guilty. This woman I've never met is going to lose her home and her boyfriend—a damn fine man, too—because of me.

"I'm sorry, Hawk. I feel almost terrible, instead of being thrilled to death."

He shakes his head. There's a faint smile on his face as he says, "Don't be sorry and don't feel terrible. Are we in love?"

"Yes," I say with a firm nod of my head.

"Have we been through enough shit in our lives?"

"Yes." Another definitive nod.

"Do we deserve happiness more than anyone else we know?"

I laugh. "Oh hell, yes."

He lifts his glass of wine and I lift mine. We clink them together and there's a sparkle in his eye as he says, "Then let us toast our new life together. Love, laughter, happiness. Forever, Beej. You'll never regret it, and neither will I."

Tears fill my eyes. He's right. We're meant for each other and we've always known it, long before we ever acknowledged it. "I love you, Hawk."

"And I love you." He reaches out and takes my hand, kisses my palm. "Now eat up. Let's finish our supper and then we'll throw the dirty dishes into the sink to deal with tomorrow morning. Because as soon as we're done eating, I'm taking you to bed." That seductive smile appears again, the one that makes my stomach flutter.

I return the smile, my mood lifted substantially. "Couldn't imagine a more delicious dessert," I say with a wink.


End file.
